Secrets Page 7

  He doesn’t seem to like me either now. He told me to go upstairs and put some clothes on at once yet there was Wanda in her night things showing heaps more of herself than me. However, I tried very hard indeed not to let it get me down. I am determined not to care about Dad any more. I don’t care about Wanda either. They can have as many secrets as they want. I’ve got my secret, my special new friend Treasure.

  I told Wanda on the way to school that I was going to come home by myself, just as we’d arranged. She nodded vaguely. It was as if she was plugged into an invisible Walkman, listening to something playing over and over inside her head.

  It was not a good day at school. I was last to be picked for Netball which was totally humiliating. I didn’t have anyone to sit with at lunchtime and I’d finished my book (Zlata’s Diary – but she’s not a patch on Anne) so I simply stared into space, pretending I was perfectly content with my own company.

  Then in Circle Time we started this discussion about delinquency. Maria and Alice and some of the others were going on and on about yobs on tough estates and how they stole stuff to feed their drug habits and set fire to dustbins and beat up old ladies. I sat there, feeling my face flame as fiery as my hair. Mrs Gibbs said I was uncharacteristically quiet. Did I not have a view on delinquency? So I gave them my view – a panoramic one.

  I gave an impassioned speech about Class and Opportunity and the so-called Welfare State (I didn’t quite know what I meant but it sounded good). Then I talked about the Latimer Estate and how there were lovely, kind, funny, gentle, hospitable people living there, not like some posh-nob people who prided themselves on their manners.

  There was total silence when I stopped speaking. I found I was panting, as if I’d just run a race. Mrs Gibbs was breathing a little heavily too. ‘Well, that’s certainly one point of view, India,’ she said. ‘Does anyone want to take issue with anything India’s said?’

  No-one said another word! The discussion was over. I’d won – though I knew no-one really agreed with me.

  I couldn’t wait for school to be finished so I could rush right round to the Latimer Estate. I shot out of school the moment the bell rang just in case Wanda might be waiting after all. I started to slow down the nearer I got. I was barely putting one foot in front of the other by the time I got to Treasure’s block.

  I was starting to worry that I’d got it all wrong. It was almost as if I’d made it all up before. I knew it wasn’t one of my pretend games, I knew Treasure was real – but maybe I’d somehow remembered her nicer than she was. Maybe she’d turn out like Maria. Maybe she was secretly laughing at me. Maybe it was all an elaborate game and when I set foot on her territory the boys would barge into me on their skateboards and Treasure would bunny-hop over me on her bike.

  I looked all round the play area. I saw the skateboard guys swooping up and down and several kids on bikes – but none of them was Treasure.

  I stood still, feeling foolish.

  ‘What are you doing here, Posh Girly?’ one the boys yelled.

  Another skidded past me, so close I nearly popped the buttons on my school shoes. They all saw and laughed. I tried laughing too, but it just made them sneer more.

  ‘Run away home, Posh Girl, before we give you a good seeing to.’

  ‘I’d like to see you try,’ I said, dodging round him, acting as if I couldn’t care less though my heart was going thump thump thump, like a ball bouncing inside my chest.

  ‘Oi you, where are you off to?’ he shouted, as I hurried towards Elm block.

  ‘I’m going to see my friend,’ I said.

  I didn’t want to risk the lift in case they all squeezed in with me. I made for the stairs instead. I ran up. Someone was calling after me, they all started shouting, but I was scared of being ambushed. I went on running up the stairs. Up and up and up. My heart seemed to be a beachball now. I wanted to stop for a rest but I could hear footsteps coming up after me, so I went on running up the stairs. They ran too, getting nearer. Then I tripped rounding the corner of the dark stairwell and sat down hard and they fell over on top of me–

  And it was Treasure! She’d spotted me when the boys were cheeking me, she’d yelled, they’d yelled, just trying to be helpful.

  ‘I couldn’t call properly. I’m so out of breath. Oh help!’ She really was wheezing, leaning hard against me as we sat there.

  ‘Shall I fetch your grandma?’

  ‘No, no, I’m fine. Well, I will be in a minute. It’s just my asthma. Let me have a little puff.’ She fumbled in her schoolbag, found her inhaler and used it. ‘There! It was just all that running. I’ve been charging all the way back from school. I was so worried I’d miss you.’

  ‘I was scared I’d missed you. You said you’d be on your bike watching out for me.’

  ‘I know, I know, but I was kept in. That teacher’s such a pig. They’re not supposed to keep you in without proper notice. She said she was just making me tidy up the classroom but everyone had been painting and it took ages.’

  ‘Why was she picking on you? Did you do badly in a test or something?’

  I was being sympathetic but Treasure stood up indignantly.

  ‘I was always top at my last school. Why do people always think I’m thick? They wanted to stick me in the bottom group here but I wasn’t having it.’

  ‘OK, OK. Don’t go all ratty, please,’ I begged.

  ‘I bet I’m cleverer than you are, even though you’re so posh.’

  ‘I’m sure you are,’ I said, though actually I’m nearly always top, and although I hate my school, it is ultra-academic and competitive. I’m clever but I knew it would be stupid to say this to Treasure.

  ‘So what were you in trouble for?’ I asked.

  ‘I knocked over this girl’s paint water kind of accidentally on purpose. It splashed her painting so she went wailing to the teacher and then I was for it.’

  ‘But why did you spill her paint water?’

  ‘Because she said stupid things about my nan and my nan’s boyfriend and she got on my nerves,’ said Treasure, and she spat vehemently down the stairwell.

  I very much hoped I’d never get on Treasure’s nerves.

  It was as if she could read my mind. Her hand scrabbled in around my elbow so we were linked together.

  ‘You’re different, India,’ she said. She squeezed my arm tight. ‘I was scared you wouldn’t come back.’

  ‘I said I would. I promised.’

  ‘I know. But I thought you might have just been messing around, slumming it for a day, seeing how the other half live.’

  ‘I’m not like that.’

  ‘I know you’re not.’

  ‘Treasure . . . are we friends?’

  ‘Of course we are.’

  ‘Even though we haven’t known each other ages? I used to have this friend Miranda. I’ve known her since we were babies and we were sort of best friends – but not like this. She never even bothered to keep in touch after she left our school.’

  ‘I’ll always keep in touch with you,’ said Treasure. ‘Only I’m not leaving here. I’m staying here for ever and ever and ever. You can be my best friend for ever and ever and ever too.’

  Nine

  Treasure

  WELL, THE REALLY, truly GREAT thing in my life is that I have a best friend, India. She came calling for me. We went indoors and played with little Britney until Loretta took her round to her friend’s flat. Then India and I mucked around with crayons and stickers and glitter, making pictures with Patsy. We didn’t really want to play with her but we couldn’t leave her out.

  Patsy drew a little house with three curtained windows and a door with a knocker and a letterbox. She coloured them in very carefully with a bright yellow sun shining above them. She did a strip of blue at the top of her picture for sky and a strip of green grass at the bottom, patterned with a neat row of pink daisies. She stuck a sticker bunny in the grass and a sticker bluebird flying past her sun. She inked MY HOME in silver gel pen at the t
op and then sat back with a big smile.

  ‘But our home isn’t a bit like that,’ I said.

  ‘All right,’ said Patsy, unfazed. ‘It can be the bunny’s home.’

  ‘Ah, bless her,’ said Nan, throwing chips in the pan with a sizzle.

  I made sick noises. Patsy’s OK, but I can’t stick it when she goes all twee and babyish. Bunny’s home, indeed!

  ‘Now, now,’ said Nan, putting her hand over my mouth. ‘If you’re going to be sick go and do it down the toilet, Miss Treasure.’ She rested her chin on my head. ‘Oh darling,’ she said, seeing my picture. Her arms wrapped round me properly.

  I’d drawn a dark, horrible home, down at the bottom of my paper, all scribbly black lines, with a tiny woman and some kids like little beetles and a much bigger cartoon ape man going stamp-stamp-stamp all over them. Then I’d drawn a ladybird girl in a red fleecy coat flying up, up, up to a new brightly coloured home at the top of a multi-storey block of flats. I’d emptied practically the whole of Patsy’s glitter on the fourth flat of the fourteenth floor.

  ‘That’s lovely, Treasure,’ said Nan, giving me another hug.

  Then she had a peer at India’s picture. She’d drawn a very tall thin house that took up the whole of her paper.

  ‘You live in a big house, darling,’ said Nan, trying to act like she wasn’t dead impressed.

  I peered at it too, wondering why she’d drawn some kind of sinister army marching along outside. There was a river too, though we’re nowhere near the Thames.

  ‘It’s not my home,’ said India. ‘It’s Anne Frank’s house.’

  ‘Who’s Anne, sweetheart?’ said Nan.

  India looked astonished. ‘Don’t you know who Anne Frank is?’ she said.

  She didn’t mean to be rude but it came out that way. Her posh little voice didn’t help.

  ‘Sorry, dear, I don’t,’ said Nan, going pink. She didn’t sound sorry, she sounded dead snippy.

  My tummy went tight. I couldn’t stand it if Nan took against India. But it was OK. India had gone pink too. She said quickly and humbly, ‘Oh, I’m ever so sorry, Mrs Mitchell.’

  ‘Rita,’ said Nan, nice again.

  ‘It’s just that Anne Frank is my all-time heroine. She was this Jewish girl who hid from the Nazis in Holland during the war—’

  And then I got it – the long thin Dutch house and the canal and the scary soldiers. I peered more closely at India’s picture and saw the top of the house was turned into a hidey hole. You could just see Anne through the window, writing in a little red notebook.

  ‘Her diary,’ said India reverently.

  ‘I keep a diary,’ I said, and then I blushed in case it sounded stupid. I hope Willie didn’t hear. I’d hate it if he leafed through this and had a right laugh at me. Patsy was too busy shaking glitter over her picture to take in what I was saying. Her bunny was rapidly turning into Rhinestone Rabbit.

  ‘I keep a diary too!’ said India, and then she blushed.

  ‘You girls!’ said Nan. ‘Well, I don’t keep a diary. I’m not confiding my secrets to anyone!’

  India went on telling us about Anne Frank for ages, until to be honest we were all a little bit sick of her. It got more interesting when India started going on about Anne and her parents and this boy Peter who hid in the secret annexe with them. Anne falls in love with him at the end of the book and he’s her boyfriend. India sighed heavily when she said this.

  ‘He doesn’t seem worthy of her,’ she said. ‘Still, it wasn’t as if she really had any choice stuck in the annexe.’

  ‘Yes she did. She could choose not to have a boyfriend at all,’ I said.

  ‘Do you have a boyfriend, Treasure?’

  ‘No way! I can’t stick boys.’

  Well, Willie’s OK, I suppose. He does let me borrow his bike. And he lets me wear his Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirt. It’s not even an old one, it’s one he often wears himself, but when I said I thought it looked great he just took it off and shoved it over my head.

  ‘Looks great on you too, little Treas,’ he said.

  It looks literally great, way down to my knees, but I kind of like the baggy look. I kind of like Willie too. But that’s OK because he’s family. I’m never ever going to get a boyfriend.

  My mum would be great if it wasn’t for her blankety blankety blank boyfriends. Especially Terry.

  I’m so scared. It’s Saturday tomorrow. Mum phoned up again last night to say they really are coming to get me.

  Nan took the phone and told Mum she was talking rubbish.

  ‘No I am not,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve consulted a solicitor, see. He says there’s no question, Treasure’s mine and she belongs here with me.’

  ‘But that animal you live with whipped her with his belt,’ Nan exploded.

  ‘No he never. And anyway, even if he did, which he didn’t, you’ve no proof. Now listen, if you don’t hand Treasure over when we come for her we’re getting a court order.’

  ‘You can get the Queen herself to command me. I don’t give a stuff,’ said Nan, tucking me tight under her arm. ‘No-one’s taking my Treasure away. Let’s just ask her what she wants.’

  ‘It’s what the courts say. We’ve got a foolproof case. I’m her mother,’ said Mum.

  ‘And I’m your mother, God help me, and I just want to do what’s best for your child,’ said Nan.

  ‘Now look, Rita—’ It was Terry suddenly speaking. I shrunk back, pressing my head into Nan’s soft chest so I couldn’t hear him.

  I just heard the buzz of his voice. He wasn’t shouting. He didn’t sound drunk. He was using his wheedling I’m-a-really-nice-guy tone. But he’s often like that just before he pounces. Nan wasn’t fooled. Her nose wrinkled like there was a terrible smell as he whined and whinged into her ear.

  ‘I am being reasonable, Terry,’ she said. ‘You’re the guy who can’t keep his belt buckled.’

  Terry’s voice buzzed louder, like he was threatening her. Nan stood firm. But she started to shiver, even though the heating’s always turned full up in the flat.

  ‘What? What’s he saying? Nan, what is it?’

  She patted me on the shoulder to keep me quiet. Then she drew in her breath sharply.

  ‘It wasn’t murder. Even the cops knew that. It was an accident. Don’t you dare talk about my Pete like that,’ she said, and she slammed the phone down.

  I waited. I was shivering too. Nan held me tight but she didn’t speak. When I looked up there were tears glistening on the end of her eyelashes.

  ‘Oh Nan!’

  ‘Now it’s OK, Treasure. I’m getting in a silly tizz over nothing. Don’t take any notice of silly old Nan.’

  ‘You promise promise promise I can still stay with you?’

  ‘I promise promise promise,’ she said – but she didn’t look me in the eyes.

  I caught her by the cheeks and tilted her head.

  ‘Nan! Look, I’m not a little kid.’

  ‘You’re the littlest kid ever,’ said Nan. ‘Barely bigger than Britney.’ Tears were spilling down her cheeks now.

  ‘Did Terry say he’d get you, Nan?’

  ‘It’s not that, pet. I’d like to see him try. No, it’s just something he said about you living here with my Pete. . .’

  I didn’t understand. ‘But he’s . . . not here,’ I said delicately.

  ‘Yes, I know, pet, but he’s only got another six months to go if he gets his good behaviour taken into consideration, and Pete’s no fool, he’s sweet as pie to everyone so he can get right back to his family as soon as possible. That’s what that wicked Terry is on about. He says these social worker busybodies won’t let you stay with me, not with a guy who’s got a lot of previous, and a five stretch for manslaughter. He was even saying they’ll think about taking Patsy into care, but that’s ludicrous, he’s her father.’

  ‘Well, he’s my grandfather.’

  ‘Not really, Treasure. Not by blood.’

  I suddenly feel like I’ve been left one side of
a mountain range and Nan and Pete and Loretta and baby Britney and Willie and Patsy are all on the other side. There’s no way I can leap over to be with them. I’m stuck all by myself . . . and Terry’s climbing up after me, my side of the mountain.

  ‘We’ll tell on him. We’ll show my scar,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, we can try, my love, but remember what we said up the hospital, that you got hurt after a game with your brother and sister? It would be hard to go back on that in court.’

  ‘So do you think they’ll really take us to court, Nan?’

  ‘No, darling, I’m sure Terry’s just trying to scare us,’ said Nan. ‘All this solicitor talk! I bet they’re bluffing.’

  ‘So are they still coming tomorrow or is that a bluff too?’ I asked, trying to stop my voice going squeaky.

  ‘I’m not sure, sweetheart,’ said Nan. ‘But never you mind. You don’t even have to be here. I’m not having you traumatized by that pig all over again. Yes, that’s it, my pet, you can have a day out. Maybe up to town, eh? You leave it to Nan. Don’t look so tragic. You’re not to worry.’

  I can’t help it. It feels like I’ve swallowed a whole hive of bees and they’re all buzzing inside my stomach.

  I can’t sleep.

  I’m scared of sleeping, because every time I start dreaming Terry jumps out at me and he’s whirling that belt, going crack crack crack with it like a whip. I wake with such a start and each time I tell myself it’s OK, it’s just a bad dream, but then I remember Terry isn’t a dream, he’s real, and he’s coming to get me. He’s acting all soft and sweet like he really loves me and wants me back but I know just what will happen once he gets me behind closed doors.

  Ten

  India

  DEAR KITTY

  I woke up early this morning and sat cross-legged on my bed writing my diary. Every time I wrote my friend’s name, Treasure, I spread it out in very careful twirly, fancy lettering and highlighted it in gold until page after page glowed. Then I realized I was starving so I padded downstairs to fix myself some breakfast.

  I’d just made myself a most interesting jumbo sandwich – a layer of banana, cream cheese and honey and then another contrasting layer of chocolate spread and peach slices – when Mum came bursting into the kitchen, startling me so that I dropped a bottle of milk all over the floor.